


Lil Devil

by demonbait



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cute, Cute Angel, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonbait/pseuds/demonbait
Summary: "I'll have you know, that bottle thing was only once, and it was a dare!" Crowley protested.The Boys™ go out, cuteness ensues.





	Lil Devil

It was a very rare occasion that they visited a pub, let alone get drunk. Yes, they certainly enjoyed a bottle of wine now and then, but they had never drank with the sole purpose of being drunk, but tonight was… different. Different in ways which neither could explain. This particular establishment was typical of the West End, semi private booths lined the walls, décor was gaudy and out of date. Intimate tables scattered in the middle of the room with beautiful cast iron chairs and worn seat covers, each table littered with beer mats and water rings. A small dance floor, if it could be called that, was at the very back of the pub, with a small electronic jukebox offering everything from the Swinging Sixties to Nu Electronica set to the side. The bar itself was a walnut shade with a brass foot bar that ran the entire length, beer mats and drip trays dotted along, with some patrons choosing to use neither.

Aziraphale had been seated in a booth for some time, enjoyed what had turned out to be a rather nice cocktail, although the alcohol had affected him more than he cared to let on as he watched Crowley, his Crowley, sat at the bar laughing so loudly that others were looking at what was causing the noise and tutting. Aziraphale had always thought that Crowley looked out of place in establishments such as this, he thought that Crowley would be better suited to an upscale cocktail bar, where the seats were completely see through and there was a cover charge more expensive than a decent bottle of Pomerol Bordeaux. Yes, the angel had never understood why he had preferred to come to seemingly low rent places like this, perhaps here humans were more susceptible to the temptations that Crowley engaged in, yes perhaps.

Crowley had been immersed in conversation with an odd looking fellow at the bar, conversation had turned from polite teasing into downright insulting jabs, and Crowley was enjoying himself. He enjoyed teasing humans, and tempting them into indulging in Sin wherever was appropriate, and with Crowley that was constantly. The demon insisted that he buy the man a drink, and another, and another, and another. He glanced over at the angel, who was becoming increasingly frustrated, and stuck his tongue out. The man at the bar found everything that Crowley was saying to be hilarious, which in turn made Crowley laugh as well because he had been drinking too, not because what he was saying was particularly funny. He had come up to the bar for a reason… what was it again? Oh, more cocktails. But this was more enticing.

Aziraphale wanted the chance to reply to Crowley’s tongue with his own, but was too slow, too merry, and too tipsy. The more he listened to the laughing, the more annoyed he got that His Serpent wasn’t paying attention to him, wasn’t looking at him. He just wanted to spend some time with him, relaxing in a quiet pub with… well, with his partner. He downed the rest of his glass, a beautiful pink concoction that he had forgotten the name of, even after Crowley had told him no less that four times. _Right_ , he thought, _if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed_ …

Aziraphale stood and promptly sat back down again. All that alcohol really had gone to his head. He stood again, bracing himself, and began to shuffle out of the booth, taking care not to knock the table and send glasses flying everywhere. He passed a few other customers as he headed to the back of the pub where the jukebox was and he stood watching Crowley for a moment, pouting. Crowley was doubled over, laughing at some wise crack or another. Aziraphale reached into the pocket of his corduroy trousers to find his pocketbook, something that had long since gone out of fashion but he had liked the feel of them. He removed a few coins and thrust them into the machine, bright neon letters telling him ‘thank you!’ and to choose three songs.

He scrolled through a seemingly endless choice of songs, until he found it. The Song that Crowley absolutely despised, and for good reason. He hovered his finger over the play button and took another look at Crowley seated at the bar. The gentleman that he was talking to now looking very sorry for himself, but unable to stop drinking; Crowley still laughing and mocking the man. Aziraphale returned his gaze to the screen and pressed play. And again, and again. All three credits were used to play the same song, one that Crowley hated. One that was sure to get a rise out of him and one that was certain to get him to pay attention to Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone.

The opening bars played and Aziraphale padded over to the small dance floor and began to move in time, sort of, with the music with his back to the bar. The music made it’s way to Crowley’s ears and he froze. He placed his hands on the bar and turned his head to look for the source of the song, knowing deep down just who was responsible. The sight that greeted him was that of his wonderful angel dancing like a drunken giraffe, completely out of time and completely silly. Crowley narrowed his eyes and hopped down from his stool, patting the man beside him on the back.

“’Scuse me, got some, er, business to attend to. Enjoy the hangover.” He snorted and clumsily made his way to the dance floor just as the chorus kicked in.

 _Come on little Devil,_  
_Be my little Angel,_  
_Come one little Devil,_  
_Be my, Angel, yeah._

Crowley winced. He knew exactly the reason that Aziraphale had chosen this, because this was the song that always annoyed him, this was the song that always made him stop whatever activity he was engaged in, this was the song that Aziraphale thought was cute, but Crowley thought otherwise. He approached the angel from behind, draped his lithe form over his shoulders moving with Aziraphale and whispered in the angel’s ear.

“Really? You couldn’t find any other song on that bloody jukebox but this.” He hummed.  
“Nope. But I think the lyrics are fittin’, don’t you? Dynamite lover, lizard in a bottle, oh how accurate.” Aziraphale, smiling, reached behind him to pat the demon’s hip.  
“I’ll have you know, that bottle thing was only once, and it was a _dare_!” Crowley protested and snatched the angel’s hand and span him around so they were now face to face.  
“Hmm, quite. But s’pose it just reminds me of, of,” Aziraphale hiccuped. “of when we were in the desert and you were in that, that fabric thing and you had the most beautiful hair. Oh your _hair_!” He hiccuped again and clumsily pushed a hand through Crowley’s hair.  
“Mmm, and I think you’ve had too much to drink.”  
“Have not. Dance wi’me.” Aziraphale let his head fall onto Crowley’s shoulder and pulled him into his body, he had always liked the way they had fit together. Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel and sighed.

“Did you really think, mm, I had beautiful hair?” The demon inquired. Aziraphale shifting his head slightly so he could reply, but still nuzzled close to his neck.  
“Mm, oh yes. Long braids, flaming red, almost girlish.” He giggled.  
“It was not girlish, it was on trend for the time, something,” Crowley poked at Aziraphale’s ribs with a pointed tone “that you wouldn’t know anything about.”  
“Do too!” The angel pushed Crowley back and threw his arm up “Look! These cuff links are fissionable...”  
“Fashionable.” Crowley corrected, smirking.  
“Shh. And I did pick them,” he paused. “I think.” Crowley took his hand and idly smoothed his sleeves, smiling at just how drunk Aziraphale was.  
“Angel, I think you’ll find that I bought those for you. But yeah, they are… ahem… _fissionable_.” He snickered, bringing the angel in once more and as the song finished he exhaled.

“Is that it? Can we go and sit back down now?”  
“Oh… um… no,” Aziraphale went beetroot. “I put this on, um, three times.” And held up his fingers to indicate.  
“Angel, that’s four fingers.”  
“No, s’three, see?” And in a moment of cocktail-infused confidence he poked a finger into Crowley’s mouth. Aziraphale giggled. “See? Jus’ three.” Wiggling his wet finger.

Crowley pulled the finger from his mouth with a pop and kissed it. He gazed at His Angel and thought himself to be the luckiest demon in the world, even when Aziraphale was drunk he was cute, and if possible it made Crowley love him even more.


End file.
